


Shitty July

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Friendship, Other, Pre-Game Momota Kaito, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, There's a lot of swearing in this, being mean to each other but it's overdramatic and clearly a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 02:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Momota and Saihara hear that Ouma's been having a shitty July, so they decide to do the only rational thing. Break into his house to cheer him up and make sure his August starts great!





	Shitty July

**Author's Note:**

> ASDJKHJKADS hi it's like 4:00am rn I just had my motivation restored and decided to spend five hours writing this instead of sleeping. im super tired and ik there r some issues w/ the pacing but whatever I gotta sleep. pls enjoy!

“Hey Ouma. Wake up.” Momota sighed in frustration, before cracking open a can of Monster. “Wake the fuck up.” His brows furrowed as he began to pour the sticky energy drink onto Ouma’s cheek. “Come on pussy. Stupid loser. Get out of bed.”

Ouma opened his eyes with a sneer, before he jumped and his eyes widened. “Wh-” He paused, touching his face and narrowing his eyes. “What the hell. Why is it st-” He looked to Momota, who was holding the can of Monster. “You’re kidding. Momota... it’s two in the morning.”

“I know it’s two in the morning! That’s the point, dumbass.” 

“Uhm. Elaborate? I don’t really see how this could have a point to it, no offense...”

Momota sighed. “Okay. Okay, I’ll elaborate.” He scratched his neck before turning on the small lamp on Ouma’s side table, hissing at the sudden light. “Alright, so I gotta explain this without feeling creepy since we basically just broke into your house for th-”

“What do you mean we?” Ouma flinched, staring at Momota judgmentally.

“Right. Saihara’s here too, but we’re here for a good reason.” Momota spoke, eyeing Ouma like he was going to maul him if he interrupted. He seemed like he was considering what he was about to say, before he sighed. “Huh. For once I take that back. Now that I’m saying it aloud, it’s actually dumb.” He looked down for a second, before continuing. “There’s been something off about you lately, though… About two weeks ago is when Saihara says it started.”

Ouma stayed silent, averting his eyes and beginning to pick at his nails. He began to tear up without Momota noticing.

“But then we heard from those stupid fucking Junkomaeda kinnies. They said that you were having a ‘Shitty July,’ spoken with the Gay Emphasis and everything. After that, we figured that we’d break into your house, and then do something super fun to try and make your August start off good. We were like high when we made the plan, but we’re here now so there isn’t really any taking it back.” Momota explained, before looking toward Ouma and finally realizing the tears running down his face. “Huh? Why are you crying?”

Ouma didn’t respond aside from tiny sniffles, clenching his shirt and swallowing.

“Shit, sorry for breaking into your house!” Momota borderline shouted. “We’ll leave, it was an awful idea in the first place...” 

“I-I…! Uh, no, no I- Thank you, Momota! Thanks a lot, really, I really appreciate it! I didn’t really mean to cry… So it’s okay… Sorr-”

“Keep your head up Ouma! Your neko ears are falling!”

Both Ouma and Momota jumped as Saihara slammed open the door, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“S-Saihara?! My… Neko ears?!” Ouma squeaked, hands brought up to his chest.

“Oh, the timing of that may not have exactly been… Correct…” Saihara muttered, climbing up onto Ouma’s bed and sitting down with his legs crossed. “Sorry about all that... I wasn’t sure when to come in and things seemed like they were getting awkward, so I wanted to make my debut as soon as possible.”

Ouma nodded and opened his mouth to tell Saihara it was fine, but Momota cut him off before he could.

“Hey… Saihara!” Momota snapped. “Your debut was great and all, but where’s the bag?”

“Uh. What bag?”

Momota crossed his arms. “You know, the bag of stuff you were supposed to bring?”

Saihara just stared at him for a second. “I… You never said to bring a bag? Or anything to put in it?” He smiled nervously, putting his hands up.

Momota took a minute to respond, looking annoyed for a second before his eyes widened. “...Wait. Wait yeah. Yeah. Shit, you’re right. I didn’t.” He looked down to the floor. “Damn. What are we gonna do now?” 

“Momota you… Really forgot to bring anything to do?” Ouma frowned.

“Okay, so what if I did? Whatever.” Momota narrowed his eyes, averting them from Saihara and Ouma. “You know, you really need to learn to shut it kid. I know what I’m doing. My meat is bigger than your future and my IQ is 2000.” He huffed.

The room went silent for a moment, before Saihara smirked. “Yeah? Well my IQ is 11037.”

Ouma laughed quietly, whereas Momota looked like he was about to commit a murder. “Hey Saihara. You dumb fucking asshole.” He spoke, giving Saihara a deadly glare. “I want you to know that in my entire three years of knowing you, that that is the worst thing I’ve ever heard come out of your disgusting, weeaboo mouth. That isn’t a joke, you sick motherfucker. And I’ve heard the things you’ve said about Kyoko Kirigiri, so trust me on that one.”

“U-Uhm… Momota, I’m not sure if I should mention this right now… But...” Ouma smiled deviously, holding back a laugh. “Haven’t you actually known Saihara for _ four _ years?”

Saihara gave a sudden, triumphant look. “Ouma’s right! See Momota, this is why my IQ is 11037 and yours is only 2000. Pathetic.” He snickered, eyeing Momota challengingly.

Momota grumbled under his breath, before sighing. “Fine… You win this battle. But you better be prepared for the next one, because tomorrow I’m going to send you so much anon hate you’ll cry. I’m going to single handedly cyberbully you off of Tumblr, dickhead.”

“If he leaves Tumblr then I also have to leave, since we’re canonmates and I’d have nobody else to tag on my kin posts when I’m lonely.” Ouma spoke, index fingers pressed together nervously.

“Stupid gross nerds…” Momota mumbled.

“Hmm… I guess we kinda are stupid gross nerds. If Saihara isn’t, then I definitely am.” Ouma touched his cheek again, defeatedly. “Yeah... That’s gross. Can’t believe you poured all this Fortnite juice on me. Bleh.” He pouted.

Momota’s face went blank. “What did you just call Monster? Fortnite juice? Are you making fun of Monster? Making fun of Fortnite?” He spoke quietly and fiercely, making Ouma bite his tongue. “How dare you. No, how fucking dare you. You can’t just say that, Ouma. Fortnite is good. It’s just like Danganronpa, okay?! So you can’t diss Fortnite!” He yelled, pure rage in his eyes.

“Momota.” Saihara looked down at his palms, hat covering his face. “You really fucked up, buddy.” He snapped his head back up, snarling. “If you let my Ronpa go now that'll be the end of it. But if you don’t, I will go full anime murderboy on you, right here right now. Mark my words. I have my DIY Monokuma pocket knife in my shirt right now. _ I will go apeshit.” _

Momota seemed scared for a second, while just Ouma winced at the mention of the infamous DIY Monokuma pocket knife. “The DIY Monokuma pocket knife? You kept that? I made that like, a year ago. It was pretty bad too?” Raising his eyebrows, Ouma cupped his chin in thought. “Saihara, isn’t that thing too dull to hurt anyone? And it doesn’t even look like Monokuma… The paint job was so ugly…”

“I see…” Momota muttered, now confident after finding out about how totally lame the Monokuma pocket knife really was. “Fight me then Saihara, fight me with your Monokuma pocket knife. We’ll duke it out right here!” Momota exclaimed, squaring the fuck up.

“Oh really? Legendary gamer battle, Fortnite vs. Danganronpa?” Saihara stood up, standing across from Momota. “Any rules?”

“Yeah, one. Don’t actually hurt anyone or damage any surroundings. First one to get the other on the ground for three seconds wins. Ouma, wanna be the referee? You can count out the seconds.” Momota cracked his knuckles.

“Hmm... That works, sure!”

“Cool. Alright, so on the count of three.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Go!”

Momota was far, far too prepared. Way more prepared for the joke fight than he should’ve been, considering how stupidly easy it was for him to win. Speeding forward and closing the five foot gap between him and Saihara, he pushed him by the shoulders hard, making Saihara gasp and lose his balance. Shuuichi just fell on his own, and Ouma could see the absolute anguish in his eyes as he so easily lost the gamer battle. It was sad. Shocked, all Ouma could do was count to three as Momota kept Shuuichi down with his foot. 

Momota raised his foot from Saihara’s back. At the end of it all, there was only one thing to be said. “Epic gamer moment.”

“That was…” Ouma was speechless. He was silent for a moment, before finally finding his words. “Momota, that was... Ruthless.” He put a hand over his mouth, laughing at the sight of Saihara still lying on the ground in defeat. “Epic gamer moment.”

Saihara finally got up, betrayed. “You guys are homophobic.”


End file.
